Little Warrior: Boy Patriot of Georgia (Patriot Kids of the American Revolution Series Book 2)

by Geoff Baggett

  “What is her name?” Frank asked pointedly.

  His abrupt, out-of-context question elicited silence and dumbfounded looks among the group.

  “I have not asked her,” Wappanakuk confessed.

  “Well, ask her then. She’s not a wild animal. She has a name. We need to stop talking about her and actually talk to her.”

  Wappanakuk knelt again beside the Cherokee girl to ask her name. “Do de tsa do ah?”

  She responded, “Nanye-Hi.”

  Wappanakuk nodded and smiled at her, then repeated her answer. “She is Nanye-Hi. Her name means, ‘goes about.’ She must have the spirit of a wanderer and explorer.”

  “Non-yay-hee,” Frank repeated. “Such a beautiful name.” He extended his open palm toward the girl and smiled broadly at her. With his other hand he patted his own chest. He told her, “I am Frank. That is my name. Frank.”

  She stared at him curiously.

  He said his name again. “Frank.”

  At last she smiled ever so slightly and placed her hand on top of his. Then she repeated his name with her soft, high-pitched voice, “Frank. O si tsi de na da tso hi.”

  Frank looked excitedly to Wappanakuk for a translation.

  He smiled and said, “She said that it is good to meet you, Frank.”

  No one thought it possible, but Frank’s smile grew even wider.

  To everyone’s amazement and delight, eight months later the young slave named Frank married the Cherokee maiden named Nanye-Hi.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BATTLE AT CARR’S FORT

  It was over a year later when the Hammocks had to flee for their lives. All of their neighbors were gone. The Creek Indians had stolen most of their livestock and burned their barn. They simply could not stay on their farm any longer. They had to go to Carr’s Fort. They no longer had a choice. But first they had to make it across the rain-swollen Little River.

  The wagon bottomed out in the slow-moving water. It began to seep through the cracks in the floor and soak the cargo inside. Frank snapped the leather reins and talked soothingly to the team pulling the wagon. Nanye-Hi sat on the wagon seat beside him, her eyes wide with fear at the rising water. She was holding their infant son, Simeon. The stout little four-month-old was sucking on his fist and paying absolutely no attention to the excitement all around him.

  Milly popped her head out from beneath the canvas flap behind Frank and screamed, “Robert! Water’s coming into the wagon!”

  Her husband brought his horse alongside them. He had a small red-brown calf lying across the pommel of his saddle. The frightened animal bellowed loudly and repeatedly for its mother.

  “Yes, dear, I know it is, but there’s nothing that we can do about it now. This is the best ford across Little River for five miles in either direction. We’re on the deepest spot right now and will start moving up in just a minute or two. There’s no turning back now. We’ll just have to get dried out when we get to the fort.”

  “This is going to be absolutely horrible!” she wailed.

  Robert tried to reassure his wife. “It will be fine. We planned for this. The food and perishables are on top of boxes and crates. We’ll just have to dry a few blankets and items of clothing. It will be all right.”

  Robert nodded to Frank. “Let’s pick up the pace, Frank.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ten minutes later they were across the Little River and on dry land once again. Robert halted the tiny convoy to check their belongings. It was as he thought. Less than an inch of water had invaded the wagon bed and the damage was minimal. After a few minutes of rest the family moved on toward the northwest. They had eight miles of rough travel ahead, and Robert wanted to reach Carr’s Fort before sundown.

  The Hammock family did not have much left to show for their four years of living in Georgia. The Indians and bandits had stolen most of their livestock and food stores. What little cornmeal and flour they had left was piled on top of wooden crates in the wagon. There were also a couple of bags of turnips and some other late season vegetables. Crocks of preserved food, dried venison, blankets, animal pelts, and tobacco barrels filled every nook and cranny of the wagon. Farm implements and tools were tied to the outside of the rig.

  They only had four horses left. Two pulled the wagon while Robert and Lewis were mounted on the other two. They managed to salvage about a dozen chickens that the last group of marauders had left behind. And, amazingly, they had discovered the cow and calf wandering loose in the woods near the barn. The animals had, no doubt, inadvertently wandered off and escaped from the bandits in the darkness after the last night raid. The mama cow was tied to the back of the wagon. Once on dry land the calf trotted along behind her faithfully.

  They followed a narrow but well-worn trail that ran along the banks of the Beaverdam Creek. It was just wide enough for the wagon and they encountered little difficulty during their brief trek. It was about two hours before dark when they crossed a tiny fork in the creek and saw the smoke and palisades of Carr’s Fort. There were a couple dozen men and women working in the fields around the fort. All of the men were well-armed. A few minutes later they eased up to the gate, which was closed. Two men were on sentry duty, watching from platforms on either side of the gate.

  The man on the left, a rather dirty fellow in a greasy, filthy hunting frock and black floppy hat, greeted them, “Good evening. Who are you folks?”

  Robert spoke for the family. “I’m Robert Hammock. My place is about eight miles south of here along Reedy Creek. Why are the gates closed during daylight?”

  “Well, we have had quite a bit of Indian trouble. One can’t be too careful these days. What brings you to Captain Carr’s Fort?”

  “We got hit again at our place last night. Bandits cleaned out the last of our livestock. We just can’t hold out on our own anymore. We figured that we would join up with you folk here at the fort. We have a standing invitation from Sergeant Zachariah Henderson to come and join up at Carr’s Fort whenever it became necessary. He told me that if we ever came you would open the gates for us.”

  “That so, huh? Let me check, then. Hold on just a bit.” He turned and yelled toward the ground inside the fort, “Micah! Go get Zach Henderson! Tell him I need him on the gate right now!”

  A few minutes later the familiar face of the rough and grizzly sergeant appeared beside the unwelcoming sentry.

  “Amos, can’t you even stand guard without needing something? Why did you call me up here on this wall? I was just about to eat my supper.”

  The fellow named Amos pointed down at the Hammock wagon. “This fellow says you gave him an invitation to come and move in here at the fort.”

  The sergeant squinted and examined the travelers. He didn’t seem to recognize them at first.

  “Sergeant Henderson, I’m Robert Hammock … from Reedy Creek. You helped us bury that bunch of Creek Indians a while back.”

  A look of recognition washed across his face. He smiled broadly. “Mr. Hammock! Of course! So, you finally gave up trying to make it on your own?”

  “We got cleaned out of most of our stores and livestock last night and decided to fold it in. We were hoping to ride out the war here with you folks.”

  “Yes, sir! And you are most welcome. Is that smooth-talking Indian still with you … the one from Carolina?”

  “No, Sergeant. He left us and went back home a few months ago.”

  “That’s too bad. That Indian was one impressive fighter. He would have been a good scout to have here at the fort.” He barked over his left shoulder, “Open up the gate!”

  Moments later the pointed palisades at the top of the gate angled inward as the bottom angled out toward the Hammock wagon. There was much heaving and grunting as the gate swung up and locked in place overhead. Frank clucked at the team of horses and the wagon gave a lurch as it moved forward.

  Robert sighed quietly and his heart ached with a dark sadness as they drove through the portal into the dim, wet fort. He wa
s experiencing an overwhelming sense of failure and frustration. The Hammock family had a new home. He just hoped that it was a temporary one.

  ***

  It was late afternoon on December 31, 1778. Robert and Frank were pulling their regular rotation on guard duty. They drew an assignment that neither of them cared much for … gate watch. It was much easier to be manning one of the blockhouses or perches along the top of the wall. Gate duty required constant attention. Gate guards had to identify people, decide who should be allowed into the fort, and supervise the opening and closing of the gate. But at least they were eating well. Both of them had wooden plates piled high with smoked pork and fresh bread and mugs full of steaming hot tea. And it would be dark soon.

  Once the sun was down no one would be going into or out of the fort.

  About an hour into their watch they heard a single rider break through the tree line to the east. The man was moving at a fairly high rate of speed, galloping across the fallow fields near the fort.

  Robert called out, “Rider coming! Looks like militia! Open the gate!”

  Below him a half-dozen men threw their shoulders into the heavy load of the gate and swung it upward. The rider’s horse never broke stride. The man leaned sideways to lower his profile and rode full-speed through the partially opened gate. The men released the gate and allowed it to fall closed behind him. He drew his horse to a rapid stop and nimbly swung down from the saddle.

  Sergeant Davis greeted the man. “I’m Mike Davis, sergeant of the guard tonight. And who might you be?”

  “Ensign Andrew Willard, Wilkes County Militia. I bear a message for Captain Carr.”

  “I’m right here.” Captain Robert Carr stepped out of his farmhouse, a large cabin that sat in the center of the fort palisades. He pulled on his heavy wool overcoat and wiped food from his mouth as he approached the messenger.

  Ensign Willard snapped a salute. “Captain Carr, I have an urgent message from Colonel John Dooly in Augusta. He has dispatched messengers to all of the forts in the region.”

  “Verbal or written?”

  “Written, sir.”

  He reached into his pouch and retrieved a letter. He placed it in the greasy hand of Captain Carr. The captain removed the binding string and broke the red wax seal. He read the message quickly, his eyes growing wide. He reached up with his right hand and covered his mouth, then exhaled and folded the letter closed. The crowd of men gathered around began to murmur.

  Finally, one of the sergeants asked, “What is it Captain? What does it say?”

  The captain looked grim. “Boys, we are no longer just dealing with Indians anymore. The Redcoat Colonel Archibald Campbell has landed a British force of over 2,000 soldiers on Tybee Island. They captured Savannah the day before yesterday. Campbell flanked Howe’s force of six hundred men and took the city without artillery. Four hundred were captured. The capital was seized intact.” He spat on the ground. “Get your affairs in order, boys. The Redcoats are occupying Georgia. They’re in Savannah and will be after Augusta next.”

  “What do we do, Captain?” asked one of the men.

  “Prepare yourselves for travel, gentlemen. We leave for Augusta at first light!”

  ***

  Captain Carr’s company of militia had been gone for less than a week before green-uniformed Tory militia swarmed into Carr’s Fort. The British-led soldiers from Augusta rode in without any resistance. There were no able-bodied men to defend the fort. Carr had left a handful of toothless old men in charge.

  Lewis stood in the open doorway with his arms crossed, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe what had just transpired before his very eyes. The old men of the fort had just handed over the garrison to the Tories without firing a single shot! Now Loyalist militiamen were swarming all over the walls and manning the firing ports, shooting excitedly in every direction at an unseen enemy in the fields beyond.

  “At least someone has the guts to fight!” shouted Lewis.

  Milly shouted at her oldest son. “Lewis Hammock! Get inside this blockhouse this very instant!”

  Lewis stomped the wet dirt beneath his boots. He exclaimed, “Cowards!”

  A nearby Tory lieutenant took issue with Lewis’s proclamation. He stormed angrily toward him. “Boy, you need to watch your mouth. I’ll not have you calling the King’s soldiers cowards. I’ll have your neck stretched if you don’t mind your ways!”

  Lewis stood his ground. “Sir, I wasn’t calling you or your men cowards.”

  The officer stared at Lewis, puzzled. “To whom, then, were you referring?”

  “I was referring to those old cowards who threw open the gates so that you egg-sucking Tories could just walk right in here and take our fort.”

  The lieutenant slapped Lewis across the mouth, knocking him into the log wall. The left side of his head smacked the wood with a resounding thud. He dropped to his hands and knees, dazed and woozy.

  Milly Hammock appeared in the doorway and gasped at the sight of her son on the ground and the pool of blood that was forming beneath his nose and lips. She glared at the Tory officer as she reached down to help her son to his feet.

  “Oh, what a fine, brave soldier you are, young man. Is this what the King’s soldiers are about, waging war against women and children? You should be ashamed of yourself, you low down, filthy coward!”

  “You watch your tongue, too, woman. I’ve never struck a female, but I will take great pleasure in striking you! Now take that boy inside and stay in there before I have both of you thrown in jail!”

  Milly tugged at Lewis’s hunting frock and yanked him inside the doorway. She angrily pushed him down onto the dirt floor against the outer wall of the fort.

  “Lewis, if you don’t mind … try not to get killed before your father returns home. Now stay seated on that floor and keep your mouth shut!”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “There’s enough trouble both inside and outside the walls of this fort without you stirring up more of it. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Milly calmed down just a little bit.

  Nanye-Hi was sitting along the wall, taking care of the Hammock children and trying to calm their fears. She soon had them all singing a Cherokee song that she had taught them several months before. The distraction really seemed to help. But even the singing and clapping could not drown out the sharp thuds of lead projectiles striking the wall behind them or the explosions of flintlocks being fired in the room over their heads.

  Lewis thought angrily, “That’s good. Light ‘em up, boys!”

  Milly knelt down beside her son and placed her hand on his knee. “Lewis, what did you say to that man to make him so upset?”

  Lewis looked up at her. “Nothing much. I just called him an egg-sucking Tory.”

  Milly fought the urge to smile. Lewis didn’t bother to fight the urge. He grinned broadly, his bloody teeth showing behind his swollen lips.

  ***

  Inside the walls of the fort things calmed down dramatically after the initial invasion by the Tories. The Patriots beyond the walls seemed to have taken a break from firing at the fort. The Hammock women and children remained hidden in the lower lever of the southwest corner blockhouse.

  About a half-hour later, the shooting started again. When the battle resumed Lewis found a crack in the logs that gave him full view of the field to the west. He watched in awe as three dozen brave men sprinted into the open and made their way toward a barn in the center of the field.

  “Mama! Nanye-Hi! Our men are attacking! There are men trying to take that big log barn over toward the creek. Come and see!”

  His mother responded, “Lewis, I’m not getting down on the ground and crawling around to look at a bunch of men shooting one another.”

  But Nanye-Hi crawled over to the spot where Lewis was peeking through the wide crack in the logs.

  “Look! There are some men who are down on the ground,” commented Nanye-Hi. “And I hear the terrible crie
s of that one man. See how he is rolling around.”

  “He must be shot,” Lewis acknowledged grimly. “But the other ones made it. Look! I see their smoke! The Patriots are starting to shoot!”

  Sure enough, big puffs of blue and white rifle smoke began to belch from various openings in the barn. And soon men began firing from the roof, as well. Shouting and screams emanated from the interior of the fort. Several were screams of pain.

  “Oh, they’re putting it to them, now!” Lewis chattered excitedly. “I bet you they’ve got the angle down onto these bloody Tories.”

  “Lewis, watch your mouth! I will not have a son of mine talking like that!”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  The firing inside the fort diminished as the shooting from outside the fort seemed to increase. They also heard a crescendo of shouting and shooting from the direction of the main gate, well outside of their personal field of view.

  “Sounds like they’re attacking from the front of the fort,” Lewis observed. “With any luck we’ll be free from these British lap dogs before sundown tonight.”

  Then Nanye-Hi shrieked, “Look! There’s Frank!”

  “What?” Lewis exclaimed. “How do you know it’s Frank?”

  “How many other African Georgia militiamen have you ever seen?” she retorted.

  “Good point …”

  Suddenly Milly felt the urge to get down on the ground and join them. Joshua, John, and Robert were soon looking for cracks to peep through, as well. They all watched in awed silence as Frank sprinted across the open field. He ran directly to the screaming, wounded man who lay exposed to the enemy’s fire.

  They watched in amazement as Frank picked up the wounded man and ran toward the safety of the distant tree line.

  Then they saw Frank fall. He was in an all-out run when his body lurched and tumbled. His forward momentum tossed the wounded man that he was carrying into the tall grass and weeds along the edge of the field. Frank lay motionless in the dirt.